


Exhibit No Restraint

by DilynAliceBlake



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blow Job, Dry Humping, Hand Job, Inappropriate Workplace Behavior, Infidelity, Kink, Kinky, M/M, PWP, Public Humiliation, Really fucking kinky, Unsafe Sex, Watersports, Wet Humping, Wetting, if you need that tagged in a hamilton fic i guess, so much kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:45:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7243624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DilynAliceBlake/pseuds/DilynAliceBlake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is kinky smut<br/>i finally wrote a pwp ficlet<br/>someone shame me</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhibit No Restraint

   Aaron Burr prides himself on his iron clad control.  He doesn’t envy Hamilton his careless passion or inability to stay removed from seemingly any subject.  That doesn’t mean that he finds it unattractive.  On the contrary; Aaron Burr finds watching loss of control quite… _Stirring._

   Sometimes he strokes himself off reading Hamilton’s long winded treatises, shudders at the uncensored nature of Hamilton’s opinions.  Whenever he and Hamilton are working together on a court case and Burr gets opportunity to review Hamilton’s notes, he does so in the privacy of his own room.  He teases himself to completion looking at where the letters get darker and deeper, until there is an abrupt halt and splotch of ink.

   The idea of Hamilton being so fervent as he wrote that the nib snapped brings Burr to a satisfying release.

   Today Burr has been invited to attend some meeting or other; the subject of which he lost track of the minute Hamilton began losing his temper at Jefferson.

  Burr does not lick his lips as Hamilton prowls and paces snarling.  He maintains his control as the argument becomes more long winded and full of explicatives.  When it becomes clear that even Washington’s admonishments aren’t going to soothe Hamilton’s temper, Burr begins trembling slightly.  It is clear that today the Tomcat will not be reined in until he feels his point as been sufficiently made.

   It’s surely been hours of back and forth between those two now, and every second that more of Hamilton’s control slips Burr has to do more to maintain his own.  He knows without a doubt that his face is flushed, and is grateful that his waistcoat is long enough to cover anything indecent.  He’s fallen into the rhythm of the argument, every now and again asking a question he knows very well will prompt dissent.

   Aaron’s world gets snapped sharply into focus when one of Hamilton’s great sweeping hand gestures freezes midair.

   A collective gasp grumbles through the room, and Burr’s heart freezes in his chest when he spots the growing wet spot on the front of Alexander’s pants.

   The room quiets quickly, and soon Burr can _hear_ the hiss of urine, and nearly swallows his tongue at the sight of Alexander turning an embarrassed pink in the center of the room.

   The idea that Hamilton got so caught up in his arguing that he _forgot_ to go to the bathroom; or perhaps just refused until it was too late, simmers beneath Aaron’s skin.  He shoves his way through the crowd and out of the room, and couldn’t be more grateful that this was taking place in his and Alexander’s work building.

 _‘In front of everyone,’_ and _‘In the **law offices** ,’ _streaks through Aaron’s mind.  He barely turns the lock in his own office before he is jerkily unlacing his trousers and tugging frantically at his erection dry.  It makes him hiss, because usually even when watching Hamilton debate has him seeking release behind this very desk, Burr is used to having more control.  Used to going slowly and savoring the moment.

   He can’t now, and Hamilton’s loss of control influencing his own has him panting.  He’s so very close; coiled tight, when there’s a knock at his office door.  He growls and shoves his cock back into his pants, but doesn’t bother relacing them.  They’re covered by his top, and after he handles whoever is at the door he has every intention of continuing where he left off.

   Except that when he yanks the door open, there is Hamilton, still in those same wet pants.  He flinches backwards, and from the look on Alexander’s face, the immigrant is obviously assuming it’s from disgust.

   “Sorry, I’ll just-” he is about to turn and leave, but Burr’s control is strained to its very limit, and he hastily pulls Hamilton in by the wrist before slamming the door closed and relocking it.

   Two steps back and deep steadying breaths has him feeling a bit better, and then he goes to a drawer of his desk and pulls out a spare pair of trousers.  He has an entire backup outfit in his office, for just in case he spills something (or sullies his clothes in some _other_ way.)  Burr refuses to present himself as anything less than put together, and a spare outfit is practicality at its best.

   “Here,” he says softly, approaching holding out the pants.  They won’t fit quite right on Hamilton’s leaner frame, but surely the ones he has on now are cold and uncomfortable.

   “They’re not as flashy as you’re used to, but they’ll do.”

   Hamilton gives an awkward sort of laugh, not reaching for the pants. 

   “I’m not allowed to keep clothes in my office.  Eliza says if I- If I did then I would never come home.”

   Aaron isn’t sure if it’s the way Hamilton is shifting his weight, the notable pause in his usually confidently rambling speech, or the way his hands twitch slightly like he wants desperately to grasp at his own dick, but something makes Burr realize that Hamilton still has to _go_.

   No wonder he doesn’t want to change pants immediately.  To ruin two pairs, one not even his own, would be the height of embarrassment.  After what just happened, there is no doubt a sizable line for the bathroom, and he can hardly go to a tavern to use one with his pants already ruined.

   Burr licks his lips at the thought that Hamilton is a matter of seconds from resuming right where _he_ left off, and then takes another step back.

   Hamilton bristles at his, and opens his mouth to lecture him, no doubt, but Burr cuts that off before it can begin.

   “Hamilton, _shut up_.  It’s not what you think, so **_don’t_.** ”

   It was the wrong thing to say, because Alexander is already convinced he is right in his assumptions, and will go to great lengths to prove it.

   “Oh _really?_ ” he challenges, and then at the sound of Alexander resuming his no doubt hastily stopped stream, the puddle at his front growing again, all hope for Burr is lost.

   With a strangled sort of moan he shoves Alexander against the wall, pulling his cock out again with one hand while the other slips beneath Hamilton’s shirt to stroke along one of his ribs.  Soon he has them pressed together, kissing Alexander furiously and rutting like a beast against him.

   “ _Yes yes yes yes yes!"_ he pants, voice breathy and desperate.

   Alexander gasps, but can’t seem to stop the stream a second time, and that sends a frission of delight down the darker man’s spine.

   “Burr, What-” is all he manages to get out before being interrupted.

   “Aaron!” Burr moans at him.

   “What?”

“If you’re going to piss on me, Alexander,” he says, pressing them together quite tightly and practically _grinding_ for emphasis, “then I believe it perfectly appropriate for you to, _Oh!_ , to call me Aaron.”

   And then Alexander is kissing him back and the amount of urine trickles down to a cease, but Burr’s movements don’t.  It’s wet, lukewarm and squelchy, utterly sinful, and Aaron’s breathing hitches with every thrust against Hamilton’s honestly uncomfortable clothing.  No doubt he’ll have chafing later, but he can’t even bring himself to regret it.

   “God, Alexander, you just-”

   “Uhh, yeah,” Hamilton stutteringly interrupts, obviously embarrassed.

   “In front of everyone,” Aaron says between licking Alexander’s neck and lips.  This gets a small, reluctant nod, along with a strangled half swallowed keen, but Alexander’s own cock is beginning to take interest in the proceedings, and that’s all it takes to push Aaron over the edge.

   “ _Ohmygod_ , Burr- Aaron, I, uh.”

   Hamilton is still ridiculously overwhelmed, but that’s okay, because all it really makes Burr want to do is keep him that way.  He sinks to his knees and runs his fingers through his own cum and Alexander’s piss on the front of the standing man’s pants.  He gives a sultry look up through his lashes as he slurps the mess off of his fingers, and Alexander’s head falls back as he gives a full body shudder.

   He takes this as tacit permission to attempt to suck the rest of the mess out of the fabric directly, slurping obscenely and enjoying the jerk of Hamilton’s hips when he presses his tongue against his clothed cock.

   Burr pulls back, semen and saliva forming a chain from his chin to Alex’s clothes, but he can’t bring himself to care.  He licks at it absently, and then somehow manages to tell Alexander that he needs to get out of those pants.

   Alexander’s nod is distant and helpless, so Burr walks him over to the large desk, ignoring the spare trousers where they lay forgotten on the floor.

   Hamilton takes cues well and once his bottom half is shucked of all clothing, hops up on the sturdy wood.

   “If this is a dream,” he says, “I won’t be able to look you in the eye for months.”

   Sliding his palms up Alexander’s spread thies, thumbs stroking and gaze firmly on the tempting piece before him, Aaron responds.

   “And if it’s not?”

   A strained laugh.

   “It has to be.  There’s no other explanation.  At first I was sure it was a nightmare, but then…” his eyes stray to the spot at the wall where they had begun their tryst.

   “If anyone is dreaming,” Aaron says with one hand lazily stroking Hamilton’s cock, “It’s me, Alexander.”

   Alexander looks startled.

   “You dream about-?”

   Aaron licks a stripe up Alexander’s thy, then nips lightly and watches his cock jump.

   “I love watching you _lose control_ , Alexander.”

   He mouths his way up the side of the man’s cock while watching him consider their previous interaction; sees the exact moment when Alexander realizes Aaron’s every question and noncommittal dismissal of a subject up to this very day was meant to provoke.

   “Ohmygod, _you_ -“

   The exclamation is cut off with a yelp when Burr swallows down half of Hamilton’s cock and hums a yes.

   Grazing teeth gets him a high pitched keening whine, and then Aaron is working to leave a sizable hickey on Hamilton’s hip while he jerks him off and fondles his balls, sucking and laving and biting with all the passion that Hamilton’s own inspires in him.

   When Hamilton cums, Burr rubs some that got on his hand across his lips and leaves it there, looking sated and relaxed.  This inspires Hamilton to kiss him and tweak a nipple, and an ‘ _Oh, Alexander!’_ escapes before Burr is reluctantly pulling back.  He feels absolutely wrecked in the best way.

   The front of his pants are absolutely ruined, but he begins putting himself back together anyway.  He’s too blissed out to really care about the logistics of the rest of the day, dealing with whatever fallout comes from Hamilton or escaping suspicion.

   “So,” he rumbles, voice low and more erotic than he meant it to be, “Why did you come to my office?”

   Alexander looks embarrassed again.

   “I, uh, needed a place to hide out until one of the guys got back with my pants.”

   “It’s rather poor taste to come to my office to hide and finish pissing yourself.”

   The words have no bite, because they can both hear and “or it _would_ be” in that sentence.

   “I, uh, thought I could live with the embarrassment.  Worst case scenario, you hate me.  Teasing me in public would mean expressing an opinion.”

   This actually gets a chuckle out of Aaron.

   “What was your best case scenario?”

   Alexander clears his throat and fidgets with some of his mess of hair.

   “Not, um, definitely not _this_.”  He doesn't sound upset by the outcome, though.

   There is another knock on the door, and this time Aaron opens it only enough to take the pair of Alexander’s pants before closing and locking it a third time.  He tosses Alexander his, then gets his own extra set off the floor and begins changing.  He supposes his underwear is mostly alright, and then his heart jumps because Alexander’s options for leaving the office are his spare pair, or none at all, and Aaron isn’t sure which he finds more erotic.

   When he holds them up in offer to Alexander, the question in his eyes, it’s clear that Hamilton sees just how much either of the possible choices excites him.  Aaron blushes, taking his own turn at feeling shy.

   Alexander wears his underwear for the rest of the day, and when the break ends and the meeting resumes everyone is too focused on the drama with Hamilton to notice that Burr is in different pants, too.


End file.
